


Unexpected

by callmeflo



Series: a Mage's Bane [1]
Category: Moren-Ezen
Genre: Gen, Origins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 09:57:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21269180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callmeflo/pseuds/callmeflo
Summary: There was no mention of a cursed foal at her foot, but I had no choice but to drag that home too.





	Unexpected

_July 18th_

_My father had me walk to one of the breeders' places on the outskirts of the city today, to collect a new horse to pull his wagon now that Folly’s getting on in years. He said it would be a young, strong mare, and he’d been promised she was broken for riding and hitching. He hadn’t even seen the horse but it was a cheap purchase, and I was told that as long as she has 4 working legs I was to pay it._

_There was no mention of a cursed foal at her foot, but I had no choice but to drag that home too._

✧

“I got ’er through a friend o’ mine, has his horses out on the hills you know? Sometimes there’s a wild stallion passing, and some o’ the mares get in foal.”

Nawra tilts her head away from the gruff farmer and pointedly eyes the Jibitas’ colourings: a solid black mare, and the pale, washed out chestnut foal with a dorsal stripe and dotted socks.

“But this foal ain’t this mare’s foal, I promise ya! She birthed back in January out in the snow, lost it from cold. He weren’t rightly sure where this youngin’ came from but she was nursing it and he didn’t bother taking it away. So it’s a package deal, see - no extra charge for your pa! An- and you know she’ll be a darn great broodmare, takes good care o’ the foal - and she won’t be foaling no curse-touched foals neither!”

Nawra sighs gustily and rubs a tan hand over her face, cursing her father’s business sense and this farmer’s gullibility and the breeder’s idiocy, and this foal’s ghastly blood marks splashed across its chest looking like it’s throat has been slit. There’s always a catch, and this time it’s an irresponsible breeder using their buyers to get rid of unwanted offspring.

“Fine,” she mutters. “That’s fine. Here’s your pay.” She tosses over a drawstring bag full of valyut in exchange for the lead rope, and looks on with annoyance as the old man doesn’t even bother to weigh it, obviously glad he’s managed to get rid of the little beast at all. She turns on her heel and stalks off his land to the sound of his pleased goodbyes, the black mare following obediently and the dun filly not far behind.

Back on the road, she runs her fingers through the brown hair that’d come loose from her braids, tugging the ends as if she could draw out her frustration. It could be worse, she thinks, turning to the mare - she’s as strong as promised, a solid build even for a smaller Jibita, with clean joints and no obvious issues. Nawra smoothes her hands over the horse’s wide back, jumps up and down a little on the spot, and then, with her peripheral completely focused on the unknown mare’s reaction, pulls herself to lay over the withers.

She stands stock still, ears twitching in interest but with no fear or upset. Nawra hums idly and swings her leg over the rump, settling into a comfortable position bareback with her loose trousers splayed out over the mare’s barrel and her boots reaching to the mare’s elbow.

“Least we’ll have no complaints about you, eh?” she murmurs kindly, scratching over the dark, shortly shorn mane that’s just growing enough to flop to one side. The horse nickers in reply, swishing her long tail to brush Nawra’s leg. She’ll make a good workhorse for many years, pulling her father’s market wagon to and from his suppliers and marketplace.

A tiny, high pitched whinny draws her attention then, to the dainty face and wide eyes of the filly peering up at her. Its legs are spindly and hooves a touch too long, but the black mare has kept it well fed and healthy. It looks about five months old and must’ve survived the winter that this mare’s maiden foal didn’t, so perhaps it has one thing going for it. A month or so and it’ll be easy to wean, and then they can attempt to sell it - there must be someone desperate enough in the slum villages, or else a clueless nomad passing by she can wheedle a little money from.

“Come,” Nawra says, dismissing the line of thought for now, squeezing the mare’s sides and relaxing her hips into the smooth, fast paced trot. A clatter of soft hooves behind them indicates the foal following, but it’s a long hour’s ride.

**Author's Note:**

> our first little origin piece, telling the story of how Nawra ended up with a magebane mare.
> 
> Word Count(751 WC), Horse + Rider(+2), Personal Work(+1) = 10EP for Nawra and Madsie


End file.
